Against The Odds
by jlhumph
Summary: Lena is at a crossroads in her forty year life when things take a drastic turn. Will she follow the same path the she once did or completely change her course in life?


This story is a work of fiction. Enjoy.

 **AGAINST THE ODDS**

 **Prologue**

"Get up, you're going to be late for school."

"I'm up, I'm up. Okay, five more minutes." My daughter says as she lays her head down onto her pillow. I grab her leg from under her soft sage comforter and give it a light tap. "I mean it. Get up. You're going to make you're brother late again with this crap. Move it. "I smile at this younger version of myself. A much more beautiful younger version. The chuckle cannot escape my throat. She groans as she drags herself up and out of the bed to begin her day.

Both kids are dragging their feet and they already had a two hour delay on account of the snow storm that rolled in during the night. Nothing major in this tiny town in Connecticut, but enough to make the roads slick. It's a gorgeous little white picket fence kind of town, and I'm glad that we moved here two years ago from the city.

I am not particularly looking forward to today either. It's my 40th birthday and I'm not taking it very well. I knew the day would eventually get here, and I'm eternally grateful that I'm alive and well to receive it. I just never envisioned myself being forty and quite frankly, going into middle age territory. I already had my little mid-life crisis and it was a rather painful experience. I suppose I'm still kind of in the midst of it, actually. I finally had the strength to give up on my eighteen year marriage to a kind, but difficult man. He is the polar opposite of me and he was addicted to everything. You name it, he was hooked on it. The only thing that he wasn't addicted to was me. I got two great kids and a houseful of animals out of it, so who is really the winner in the grand scheme of things? I am.

I knock on my son's door and beckon him to get his shoes on and let the dogs out. The dogs are chomping at the bit to go outside into the snow and stain the beautiful, white yard a yellow mess. I can't say that I don't empathize with them, since they have been holding it in ever so patiently for this seventeen year old. The truth is, I can let them out myself but he is always trying to shirk his responsibilities. I have solely delegated the canine responsibilities to the him and the feline responsibilities to my fifteen year old daughter. The two cats barely come out of her room to socialize. The dogs and cats are copacetic but that's because they were raised correctly and they know to respect the food chain in this house. I am their leader and all others shall follow behind me.

The kids put on their sweatshirts and grab their book bags. I head over to the heavy, maroon front door after donning my warm purple coat. "Aren't you going to wear winter jackets today? We don't live in Florida." I say. My son smiles. "Mom, we're in high school. It's lame to wear a coat and the lockers are only so big." My daughter nods and calls out, "I've got shotgun!" That's all he needs to hear before they're shoving themselves out of the way, half-sliding down the stairs as they go. I step out the door and lock it behind me while slipping on my sneakers. They're the same shade of purple-fuchsia as my coat and one would swear that I planned it, but alas I did not. I open the glass storm door and swear under my breath. I really need to suck it up and buy some more work boots. Such a sin considering my now-deceased, beloved cat, peed in them before passing on. I would have kept them and just considered the urination a token of his everlasting love, but the stench was something that I just could not overcome. Off they went to meet their fate in the gray garbage bin.

I grip the rail and pray that I don't break any bones going down, and then breathe a sigh of relief when I safely make it to the bottom. When my foot leaves the last step I say a little silent prayer of gratitude and head straight for the car. The annoying banter of the two kids arguing over whose turn it is to sit in the front bellows in the enclosed space. I'm completely exasperated. "It's only 7am, please knock it off! You can both sit in the back and I can deliver you to school that way!" I yell. I'm really not in the mood for this right now. I still don't have any coffee in my system and they both have yet to wish me a happy birthday.

Both kids grow silent and buckle up, girl in the front. She plugs her phone into the radio jack and selects her teenage be-bop music. I don't know who these bubble gum kids are but they suck. I groan. "I can't listen to this without coffee and some Tylenol; Please take it off?" She laughs. "Mom, you're lying. You love this song, remember?" That devilish silver smile looking back at me. "I am a lot of things dear, but I am not senile! Change the song now. When you make my car payments, you can play whatever you want." She unplugs her phone and it grows quiet. All of a sudden, my son belts out happily from the backseat and my daughter chimes in, "Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you..." Wonderful, they didn't forget to remind me that it's my Birthday. A snow storm, in the middle of a cold Connecticut winter, and I'm forty. Just wonderful.

She starts to giggle and shakes her thumb towards me. "Mom, you're forty today! How does it feel to be an old lady?" No tact. I swear. "I'm hardly old dear. Do you see any wrinkles yet? Nope, not on me. I'm younger inside but forty is not old by any means. Remember that." I smile and slow down as I approach the high school. My son is quiet for a minute and then speaks, "It's a big deal turning forty, Ma. Is there anything you wish you had done differently?" I pause for a minute and some random thoughts run through my mind. The concept is not unfamiliar to me. Approaching forty IS a big deal, and I have been reflecting on all the erratic twists and turns of my life for a few years now. Where could I have improved? Could I have made some changes and maybe been happier? More financial stability? Followed a passion or dream, or two? Yes, those life questions have been weighing on me heavily. How do I answer him without coming off the wrong way?

"Sure honey, there are so many things that I would do differently. I mean, I would be lying if I said I wouldn't. But the two best things that ever happened to me are the two of you, so no matter what, I would have to follow that path to get here. I don't want to live without you guys." I sigh. They drive me crazy but they're mine and I'll take the crazy any day. My daughter and I exchange glances. "Would you change that you met Josh? It's taken a lot out of you. All the stress and having to move." She asks softly. I glance quickly at her and she looks down, trying not to upset me. The subject of Josh is very touchy lately. My two year relationship and subsequent engagement, ended via his dumping me three months ago. It's been extremely painful and uncomfortable. Not just because I really thought he was my soul mate, but because we merged our lives and our families into one unit. My kids trusted him and we all loved his young daughter. It's been very tough emotionally.

"Baby, I'm not sure I would change meeting him. It's tough to say. Every experience brings something different to the table. Sometimes you have to tread carefully and sometimes you have to just jump. With Josh, I jumped. I needed to do that and while the relationship ended, much of it was amazing. So I don't know if I would trade the experience based on the good. Does it suck now? Of course. But I will make it through this and so will you guys. We all will. What's meant to be will be. Don't forget that."

I pull over and let them both out as close as I can so that they don't disappear into the deep snow bank. I blow a kiss to each of them and they smile, neither returning the gesture. "Have a good day!" I call out to them and they both raise a hand as if to say "goodbye" as they walk directly into the school without looking back. I turn left onto Linden Street and then left onto Broad Street. I can't wait to get home and out of this cold weather. There's a slutty romance novel and a hot cup of coffee beckoning me to my spot in front of my gas fireplace. Forty isn't going to be spectacular; no flowers, no birthday dinner, no little trinkets. I am on my own. Not even sure Josh will text me with a "Happy Birthday". I don't know whether to laugh or cry, and right now I don't care. I'm cold sitting here in my car, clad in my gray and white striped pajama pants and I want to be warm and comfy on my couch with a dog or two laying on top of me. The light goes green and I gently apply pressure to the gas pedal and then begin to break before a major intersection. My right foot loses traction and slips from the break. I blink my eyes, and when they open I find that instead of behind the wheel in my black Chevy Sonic, I am in front of a birthday cake.


End file.
